Monday, January 12, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Yeah I write
And would work
The words with
The will and who
Of which is where
And when then what
We are ways
Of water that was
I want to very
Use the us
I'm up and um
I too am time
Those and this
Think of things
There, the them
Such a state,
I say what's right
I'm really the president,
I'm a percent of people
An outer our,
An other or
Now is not
And new is my
Much of most
And most is more
Than a million mhms
I mean it's me,
I may the many
I make the made
A lot to look
I'm long and like
The last to know
You're kind and just
I'd had the had
You're going to go,
You give from
You don't do
The day as we could
The can calls
Bye like before
I've been here because
You'll be back
MAMMOGRAMS OF THE WHOLE PICTURE
Enjoying the glory then still,
I imagine your skin sleeping alone.
I admit you are only blood once you stop breathing.
I will never remove the death within you.
The form you die as is me sleeping alone.
Soft rocks mate and hiss.
My prayers for isolation open your knees.
My God is the disease I reach.
Ice appears while a black tree
Streams this final thirst dream.
I kneel at your altar.
I won't go where I'm saying.
Sorry, so sorry
I've failed someday we fill.
I'll never stand again.
From the paper towel,
A cemetery of morsels rehearsed.
I pull out and deliver
The butter where you cusp
Robots to study holes in.
Recycled catastrophes retaining our mouths open.
A layer throwing itself off of a bridge.
Venus copes through existence and not.
We are taught to jump after balls
Coping through existence and rot.
I fail but your machine will live on.
I live on your machine to stay on.
On you I fill the machine I live on.
I live on and your machine is of me.
Your machine will live on as long as it imagines where to stop.
TACKLING CLIMATE CHANGE
In a rare act
They were like angels of death.
They were so sure of something
They didn't even look back.
Israel and America, what is there to say?
As temperatures dip, cashmeres drop.
And no early end is seen
To those coveted items we've been holding
For right moments for just the right out on.
A Western couple clad in half-eaten meals.
Longer intervals between reloading and arbitrary walking.
If we were the sale before, chances are
We are still the sale before the one
We wake up early for.
This is the sale that makes us go
We've acted that sale before.
The items coveted start snuffing us
And waking up to see no early end.
The emptiness like a rare angel
Clad in half-eaten death.
THE GOSPEL AND OUR IMAGE
Operators of the paranormal Christ
Place their black balls on our xerox machine.
My copy bleeds unemployed grape juice.
The contamination is no longer a hazard strictly for the middle-class.
I have made certain my breakdown is properly placed.
I bitterly bless reasons that fear the public
In fear of war and invasive acts of foreign hostilities.
Forget whether war be declared or not, the proportions of the military
Amount to an uprising of usurped enemies or any act of spent rectums
Indirectly terrorizing this clause where much fisting occurs.
My chemicals separate and agree that consciousness
Is a molten object combining pre-motion and motion pre-sickness
Cucumbering your salad bowl.
I never thought I'd carry clients or coin slots.
I never thought I'd care about what my hive lacks.
My heart is the next metadata
Commenting on a copy of quests to suck from.
If I want a counter-proposal,
Just stab this lollipop coated
And God will belt my skin-bag penetrating a pitiless tempest
Begging for the aloe
Arriving from an air-borne frost of turpentine.
The gospel and our image,
So punk like a payable.
Migrations of impairment
Calculate something about the water tasting burnt.
If your facility is available,
I'll alcoholic myself uncensored.
The worst is simulated.
The cosmos comes back to its picnic.
Chest reductions determine our truth.
My balls are your earrings.
Is this what examines existence?
Explosive lightning clear cut in loaves by tinfoil windstorms of hail and
Tornadoes and cyclones and hurricanes and earthquakes driven nuts by
Electrical injuries or mechanical shakedowns terminating their
Accounts in probable lump sums of extinction installments
And a tire's subjective qualities.
The worst deters our picnic.
Chest reductions alcoholic my balls uncensored.
Those earrings are as punk as the cosmos.